I Love You Too Much To Hate You A Little
by luvscharlie
Summary: It's hard to stay awya from the thing you love the most. Tate/Violate, Violate, Post-Season 1 Finale


_I Love You Too Much To Hate You A Little _by Luvscharlie

_Warnings: Tense shifts for being in Violet's head and then being in the moment. It seemed to flow better if those shifted about a bit. Darkness, angst, mention of canon!rape, mention of infidelity, overall teenage angst._

_**A/N****:** Originally written for the 2012 ahs_exchange on Live Journal where my request was for Violate!angst. The only requirements were to write what your giftee wanted and over 1000 words._

Breaking up with someone is hard. Breaking up with someone you truly love, despite all their flaws (even when those flaws are unforgivably epic in nature), is _really_ fucking hard. Those are things most of you can probably relate to, right?

Well, try breaking up with someone that you're trapped for eternity with in the same house. I mean it's a pretty big house, but eventually you're going to both want the shower at the same time or something. Okay, so showers aren't exactly _needed_ for ghosts, but they're comforting. It makes me feel more normal. Ultimately, you just can't stay away from each other forever, and Tate comes on strong. He is determined to get me back, to make me forgive him, to earn my love again, and that's hard to resist when you don't really want to.

For the first few months, it was pretty easy to stay away from him. I got to play pissed off Violet who has her reunited family- Daddy's little girl plays the part very well… for a while. But that only lasts for so long.

I mean, I was attracted to the darkness when I was alive. Try living in a haunted house as a ghost. Did my parents really think I was going to become Miss Good Girl forever? Seriously? Look at my surroundings. A girl only has so much stamina. I was bound to succumb to what I truly was before long. Of course, my parents were always pros at seeing only what they want to see; that didn't change just because they died. Lucky me. Oh, that would be sarcasm. I'm good at sarcasm.

Also, have you ever spent days upon days, upon eternity (literally), with a newborn baby wailing his fucking head off? In a house that you can only go as far as the front fence? Hell was one thing. I was pretty much expecting to be making the hot place my home from the time I was old enough to know what it was; but nobody- and I seriously mean nobody, deserves to be stuck in a house with a wailing newborn for eternity. Little fucker'll never grow out of it cause he never grows. I don't know what sins my mother committed in her life, but damn, she's certainly paying for them. As are the rest of us. I'm fairly certain I heard one of the nurses discussing ways to remove his fucking voice box. I might even help them if they try… probably not, but maybe.

The baby, the house, the love of my life wandering around these halls heartbroken—it's all starting to get to me. And despite appearances and bravado, I'm really not that strong.

The other baby being gone—the one Tate fathered with my mother—it's easier to pretend it didn't happen when the product of that—I can't call it rape because that hurts my head to think about; I can't call it anything else because I know what it was—event isn't wandering around the house as a constant reminder of that indiscretion. _Indiscretion_. I can't even call that down-playing; I've just grown more comfortable with lying to myself. Can you tell?

He's crazy. Tate. Psychotic. Awful. Violent. Kind to me. In love with me. Awful. Yeah, I said that once, but I need to keep saying it in order to remind myself. I grow weaker with the passing of every day.

Do you know what a teenager's worst fear is? Yeah, me either. I was never a normal teenager and I'm probably not a normal teenage ghost either. Luckily, there's not much for comparisons, so I don't feel so inferior. But living with their parents forever rates right up there on the top of all lists of teenagers' worst fears. The times a day I hear Violet do this or Violet do that are too numerous to count. I'm living the nightmare. I'll forever be their "child"; never have a life of my own. There's simply no escape. Hopeless. That's how it feels. Hopeless.

My dad's fidelity lasted a short time. I guess he's feeling trapped too, and the lure of Hayden being in the house is the same for him as it is for me with Tate. I walked in to find him and Hayden fucking like rabbits in the master bedroom. They didn't see me, and I didn't stick around to watch. I'm sure Mom knows, but she hasn't said anything—at least not to me.

I don't even blame Hayden; I blame him. Hayden didn't break any vows. Hayden didn't cheat on anyone. Hayden didn't owe anyone anything. Mostly, Hayden didn't ask to die. She just fell in love with the wrong man and got used.

Maybe I don't blame Hayden because I understand her. That realization may be the scariest part of it all. I never wanted to be like Hayden, but I am. I love someone who's bad for me. I can't stay away. Even the strongest person craves a bit of love in their life. And my choices are limited. To be fair, I'm not sure it would have mattered if we were trapped together or not. We are simply meant to be; there's no fighting love. I snort at my own thoughts—I sound like some romantic fourteen-year-old writing in her journal. _Dear Diary, I'm just so in love I'll die without him_.

When did this become me? I've never been _that_ girl.

It's that harsh reality that leads me down the stairs to the basement where I know Tate is waiting. He said he'd wait forever; after all, we have the time. I only want to talk to him, nothing more. Have I mentioned lately that I have a terrible need to lie to myself?

I reach the bottom of the stairs and look into the darkness. "Tate?"

He's there before I finish his name. "I've been waiting," he says. "Violet, I'm so sorry. You can't know how sorry."

It's not his first apology, but to acknowledge the apology and give him forgiveness means I have to think about what he did, and I'm not ready to do that. I put my finger to his lips and shush away his words. What I want is to feel his arms around me, to take comfort in him. I close the distance between us and wrap my small arms around his waist. He seems surprised and it takes him a moment to reciprocate.

But, when he does, it feels just as I remembered. There's a safety in his embrace that makes absolutely no sense. None at all. He's the least safe person I've ever known, but when he holds me this way, the world feels right and it's easy to forget that I no longer live in _the world_; I live in _the House_.

"I've missed you," I say, and there's a choked sound that emanates from his throat.

"Tell me you love me. Say that you love me still, and I swear we'll make it work."

I laugh. I know it's a lie. We'll never truly work. Too much water under too many bridges. The realist in me has jumped to the forefront of my mind and it takes all I have to quieten her in my head. After all, I don't want to hear anything she says. I want to pretend, even if only for a while, that we're a normal couple (as normal as a couple of ghosts can be) and we'll be together forever (that's a little less of a stretch for my imagination).

So, I say the words. "I love you, Tate." And I kiss him until the House falls away and it's just he and I.


End file.
